The house is beautiful, a white Victorian villa with a large green garden, a pool, a fountain, and a terrace where we can spend our summer nights with family and friends.
The next thing I knew, he was on one knee in the garden, surrounded by roses in every colour.
And when we stepped inside, I realised he had filled the whole house with pieces of me.
Portraits.
My eyes, my hands, my face. Some of the paintings in our bedroom are intimate, though never improper. The staff come and go to clean, so they can’t be too revealing. Or perhaps that is simply his jealousy speaking.
Psycho.
My own paintings hang beside his. I have no idea how he got hold of them, but I don’t really care. He chose the calmer pieces, not the ones I painted when my head was in a darker place.
“People would think you’re obsessed with me,” I say.
He pauses in the middle of a brushstroke and looks up from the canvas.
“Iamobsessed with you.”
I laugh and shake my head.
Our wedding is in less than a week. He refuses to wait, and I can’t say I object.
He wants the world to know me as his wife.
I suspect Arlo and Ophelia have something to do with the haste, their wedding is set for August, and Milo will not be surpassed.
He still complains about Arlo daring to propose before he did.
He is painting me wearing nothing but his boxers, his cock hard while he studies my naked body, the brush moving in slow strokes.
His eyes keep drifting, and I know perfectly well which part of me he is painting now.
I smirk at him as an idea forms, I stand abruptly and run.
My bare feet slap over the tiles as I laugh, racing through the house, glad he gave the staff the day off.
I hear him swear behind me.
“You’re going to pay for that.”
I know.
I take the stairs two at a time, laughing when he almost catches me. I reach the bedroom and try to slam the door, but it bursts open as he crashes through it.
He lifts me by the waist, my legs lock around him. His mouth finds mine and bites hard. His hand grips my arse as his tongue claims my mouth, and I tangle my fingers in his hair.
He throws me onto the bed.
I look at him through my lashes and slowly pull my tights apart, letting him see my glistering pussy.
His eyes darken, hunger flaring in them.
I am not done with him yet. I want to make him beg a little first.
I tilt my head and soften my voice. “May I tie you to the bed?”
He arches a brow. “Is this a power fantasy now?”
